


Of the Angels

by DeathsFavouriteBrother



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gabriel (Mentioned) - Freeform, Lucifer (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Sam Winchester (mentioned) - Freeform, Sherlock!Cas, Watson!Dean, little bit of angst?, purely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathsFavouriteBrother/pseuds/DeathsFavouriteBrother
Summary: One Shot: Dean returns to his and Cas's apartment after a weekend trip. Cas has news about his arch nemesis and only equal: Lucifer.





	Of the Angels

Dean entered his flat quickly, five grocery bags hanging from one hand so he could open the door. It was already late; he had been reluctant to leave his brother's and was paying for that now after the three hour drive and stop for the week's food. He didn't knock, knowing better than to think that Cas would answer the door for him. As he rushed their table to relieve his load, he hardly spared a glance at his companion dangling from the ceiling by his legs somehow. Long ago he learned that if he was alive and there was no fire, it could probably wait until he put the groceries down. He swept a hand over the table to move the various, mostly impromptu pieces of science equipment to clear a space then plopped the bags on it gratefully. 

"Do I want to ask?" he called, opening the refrigerator. He took stock quickly: a dozen eggs, a full jug of milk, unopened packages of lunch meat, and various wilting fruits and vegetables. Worryingly, it all seemed to be untouched from when he had left three days ago for the weekend. 

"Extra blood flow to my head. Shut up now," Cas replied, his voice even rougher than usual, presumably from lack of use. 

Dean closed the refrigerator and turned to looked at Cas. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, and his hand steepled under his chin. This would all be very normal except for the small detail that he had gotten himself strapped to the ceiling at the knees. 

"Cas..." he began. 

"Please shut up now?" Cas interrupted hopefully. 

"No, Cas! None of the food in the fridge has been eaten. You need to take care of yourself. You've got to stay healthy, at the very least for that big brain of yours you're so proud of." 

"My brain is working at full capacity, Dean, I assure you." 

Dean strode slowly over to Cas. When he reached out to stroke a cheek bone he thought he felt Cas lean into it. "What about me then, huh?" he said quietly, "What happens if I come home to find you've died of dehydration, or OD'd, or got sick and were to weak to fight it off? I can't leave you alone if I can't trust you with yourself." 

Cas finally opened his eyes. Their dark blue seemed to bore holes through him, as always. "Then stay," he said simply. 

Dean released a small breathy laugh. "Idiot," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss him. It was a bit odd, kissing him upside down, but definitely good. 

When he pulled back from the light kiss, he was unsurprised to find Cas still staring up at him. He had a habit of not closing his eyes while they kissed. 

"'Freakin dorks," he said, "We just Spiderman-kissed."

"Mm," Cas contradicted, "You're the 'dork'. I'm the genius who tolerates it. And if you are qualifying that as a 'Spiderman-kiss' then that makes you Mary Jane." 

Dean smiled fondly. Cas had done actual air quotes, upside down. For a seemingly emotionless middle aged man who thought murders were the highlight of his week, he could be downright adorable at times. 

"Okay," he said, running his hand through Cas's already wild hair, "so you claim you aren't a dork. Spidey has had lots of girlfriends; how did you know Mary Jane got the famous upside down kiss?" 

Cas crossed his arms. "You watch those movies enough that even a child would remember."

"Then why didn't you delete that little tidbit?"

"...I hadn't gotten around to it." 

Dean's smile grew. He took Cas's hands and pulled them from his chest. Cas glared at him. 

"You know, I really don't mind being Mary Jane. Peter Parker is really hot." Dean ducked in for another kiss before squinting at the restraints. "How the hell did you do this?" 

"I don't know. I don't remember."

Dean turned his quizzical gaze on him. "You were high as a kite, weren't you?" 

Cas nodded blandly. 

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean said, frustrated, "You could have killed yourself!" 

"I'm fine, Dean." 

Dean closed his eyes. "But maybe next time you won't be." He shook himself slightly. "Right. Let's get you down." 

After a few minutes of complicated maneuvering, a chair, a knife, and two holes in the ceiling, Cas was freed. Which caused him to knock Dean off his chair. They fell hard to the floor together, Cas landing on top and elbowing Dean in the stomach. 

As Dean lay there gasping for breath, Cas darted up and ran to the bathroom. Damn, Dean thought, How long was he stuck up there? He stayed on the floor for a few more seconds, then slowly rose to get a kettle on and put the rest of the groceries away. 

When he returned, Cas was reclined on the couch, arms folded across his chest. Dean placed one of the mugs he was holding on the small table next to the couch. 

"Up?" Dean asked. 

Cas sat up so Dean could sit down, then collapsed back once he was comfortable, his head pillowed the other man's lap. Dean sipped his tea and carded his fingers through Cas's hair. Cas laid very still, his eyes closed.

Dean brushed his thumb across Cas's forehead as he said, "You've heard about those murders." 

"Yes," he agreed. 

Dean sighed. His tone didn't give him an inch to work with. No concern, no encouragement. He decided to press on. "Exploding, liquified people are pretty new, even for us, Cas. What do you think?" 

"Lucifer's back." 

Dean's hand stuttered in Cas's hair. "Shit," he said, "And you got that from a couple panicked news reports?" 

Cas turned his head away from Dean, his eyes still shut and said, "No. He came to see me." 

Dean really jumped at that. "What?" he gasped, "Here? What did he say? Oh shit, Cas did he hurt you?" His hands began to wander frantically down Cas's neck, over his chest, and all over his stomach, checking for wounds. "Cas take off your shirt. Let me check you out." 

"Dean," Cas said, pushing himself off of him and standing up, "I am fine. He didn't touch me. Well," he amended, "He did pinch my cheek, but other than that nothing happened."

Standing and crossed the room to stand in front of Cas, Dean said, "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. What did he say?" 

Cas looked up to the ceiling and sighed. 

"Hey," Dean said, catching his chin and forcing him to meet his eyes.

"He said many people are going to die. He said that if I stopped it people would still die, but he'd come after you personally. He said that one of these days I'm going to fly too high, and the fall is going to kill me. And..." He hesitated his previously expressionless speech, "that I'm his only hope." He walked away to go sit back on the couch. "That's why I needed to think." 

Why you needed to get high as fuck, you mean, Dean thought as he joined him on the sofa, tucking his feet up on the couch and leaning against the other man. He felt warm beside him. 

"Dean," Cas admonished half heartedly. 

"Humour me." 

They stayed like that for a long time, just enjoying the other person's presence. Cas always claimed to detest physical contact, but Dean knew it grounded him. He needed it now to keep Lucifer out of his head at least a little bit longer. 

Surprisingly, Cas broke the silence first. 

"I won't let him hurt you." 

Closing his eyes, Dean turned his head so his forehead rested on Cas's shoulder. "That's what I'm afraid of. Don't you dare do anything stupid for me." 

Cas looked over at him. His eyes held a fondness Dean rarely saw him express. A little indignant, he said, "I never do anything stupid." 

Dean snorted. "Yes, you do."

Cas glared at him, but the warmth remained. After a few more minutes, he spoke again. "How was you trip?" he asked. Dean quirked an eyebrow at the subject change. 

"Since when do you care?"

"Humour me." 

He sighed. If anything was a sign of Cas's worry it was this: using trivial matters as a distraction. But he conceded, saying, "Sam's doing good. Has a new boyfriend." 

Cas frowned slightly at that. "What happened to his other... um... person?" 

Dean rolled his eyes. "He and Amelia broke up months ago. I told you that and I'm sure you were conscious at the time," he accused. 

"Oh," he replied remorselessly. 

"Yeah, guess you got around to deleting that," Dean smirked. 

"And how do you like this new boyfriend?" Cas asked as if Dean hadn't spoken. 

He yawned and shrugged against Cas. "Alright. He's high energy and high maintenance, kinda a dick, but he seems to really like Sammy and acts pretty sweet with him." 

Cas nodded pensively. Or possibly absently. Those two were sometimes impossible to tell apart with Cas. He spoke slowly, "So, you think he's good for Sam, but you don't like him."

Dean snorted again. "I'm just glad he's not a drug addict and a psychopath."

"As opposed to your boyfriend," Cas said sardonically, "who is a drug addict and a sociopath." 

"Hey," Dean countered, "You never tried to get me addicted to heroin like Ruby did with Sam. And I still call B.S. on the sociopath thing." 

"Yes, dear."

"Idiot."

"Moron." 

"I love you," Dean said. 

"I know you do," was always the reply. Dean never expected anything else. He was satisfied with Cas knowing he was loved. 

"Come to bed with me?" Dean asked sleepily. 

"Of course," he answered. 

Generally, Dean was the big spoon when they shared a bed. It was the only chance he got to hold Cas. That night, however, Cas curled around the larger man, as if that could protect him from their nightmares.


End file.
